


One Night in Adlersbrunn

by ceasefire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bonding, Drinking, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Headcanon, Oral Sex, Porn, Rimming, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceasefire/pseuds/ceasefire
Summary: After Doctor Junkenstein and his allies are defeated, the gunslinger and the archer decide to share a drink together and discover they have more in common than they thought.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it took me almost until the end of the event itself, but I managed to get this finished! Self-beta'd, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> I sincerely hope you all enjoy it!

“So how about that drink, archer?”

The archer pulled another of his arrows free from where it had pierced the monstrous form of Junkenstein’s monster. The man made a soft noise of disgust -- at the sound, the smell, the appearance, the whole damn situation, McCree wasn't sure -- and grimaced at the gore the monster’s flesh had left on the point. McCree took his water flask from his belt and approached the archer, grinning at the borderline suspicious look he received as he offered it.

“Want to clean that off?”

“You had water.”

“‘Course I did.”

“And yet you bothered me for my flask.”

“I ain’t thirsty for water. And you said that we could drink after the job was done, and I gotta say,” McCree said, cocking his head at the corpse of the monster, “it looks pretty done to me.”

The archer seemed to consider for a moment, averting his gaze from McCree’s to the fletching of the arrow in his hand. After a few seconds of silence that left McCree wondering if he’d crossed some sort of unspoken boundary, the archer met his eyes once again.

“There is an inn on the outskirts of Adlersbrunn. I will not stop you if you wish to accompany me.”

McCree’s face split into a broad grin that only widened when he noticed the upward quirk of the corners of the archer’s lips.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

* * *

The inn the archer had spoken of was a dark building surrounded by skeletal trees and dead weeds; its outward appearance was so opposing that McCree was almost surprised to step inside and find a warm and inviting, albeit slightly cramped tavern with several small groups of late night revelers slowly winding down from earlier festivities. The barman nodded at the archer in recognition, and the archer returned it as he led McCree to a table at the back of the room. They’d already parted ways with their companions; those two had obviously been old friends and had shown more familiarity between them than the rest of their ragtag group combined. Still, McCree mused as the barkeep approached their table with two glasses of clear liquid, they had the opportunity to change that now if they wanted to. 

“So, how’d you come to be part of the action tonight?” McCree asked, itching for a smoke but unsure of the inn’s etiquette on the matter. No one else was smoking, so he drummed his fingers on his thigh to occupy them while keeping his eyes on the other man.

“I have been offering my services as a mercenary around Adlersbrunn for some time. Because of Jamison Junkenstein’s attacks, there was always work to be found. Word of my actions must have reached the soldier and the alchemist,” the archer replied, raising his glass to his lips and taking a long drink. “They had devised a plan to stop the attacks once and for all. I was offered payment for my services should I help them. I agreed.”

McCree nodded slowly, idly swirling his drink around in its glass.

“Sounds about right. I only just arrived in the area a week ago. The two of ‘em just happened to see me take down six bots with six bullets and offered me the job on the spot. Was hoping the work wouldn't dry up so quickly after I got here, but it’s better to have bad pieces of work like Junkenstein gone sooner rather than later.”

McCree finally paused to take a sip of his drink; he wasn't a lightweight when it came to liquor, but the stuff was so goddamn dry that he swore his tastebuds had shriveled and died. He managed to salvage most of his pride by not coughing, but the look on the archer’s face told him he’d been caught nonetheless.

“Mind telling me what this stuff is?”

“Sake. Is it not to your tastes?”

There was a hint of amusement in the archer’s voice that made McCree want to arc up like an angry cat and show his belly like a happy dog all at once. 

“I ain't one to turn down a free drink, darlin’.”

The archer seemed to take pause at the endearment, but quickly chose to let it slide.

“You are buying the next round.”

The archer’s smug grin was back, and McCree could feel his stomach prickle with heat at the thrill of the apparently mutual chase.

“It’s fair payment for such fine company.”

The archer drained his glass, placed it on the table and gave McCree an expectant look. “Flattery will get you nowhere, gunslinger.”

“Should’ve figured you’d be a cruel one,” McCree said with a dramatic sigh, drinking the last of his own sake with more grace than his last attempt and picking up both empty glasses as he got to his feet.

The archer looked entirely too pleased at that. “Oh?”

“Yup, you pretty ones are always the worst,” McCree said with a slow smile, and he calmly walked away to give the visibly flustered archer time to recover.

It seemed the hunt was on for the second time that night.

* * *

“The sake at this establishment is nothing compared to the quality of what could be found in my home village.”

The archer made this proclamation loud enough for the barkeep to shoot him an irritated look from across the room; he went back to polishing glasses with a slow shake of his head when McCree grinned apologetically for his companion’s behaviour. They were three drinks in; not sober but definitely nowhere near drunk. The pleasant warmth of the booze had settled in McCree’s gut and made the conversation between them flow more freely than before.

“Is the town you’re from famous for that sorta thing or somethin’?”

“Not particularly. But many of the bars there stocked premium products from the surrounding regions. They had their specialties, and we had our own.”

“Then what was it that made your town famous?”

The archer paused as he considered how much he wanted to reveal. Anything that could be used to identify the town had the potential to be dangerous in the other man’s mind, it seemed. The archer’s tongue darted out to lick his lips wet, the lighter flecks of gold in the colour of his eyes highlighted by the dim lighting of the inn.

It made McCree’s mouth go dry to look at him. He lifted his glass and downed the rest of his sake, feeling the steadying burn slide all the way down his throat. The drink wasn't getting any better as he downed more of it, but the company was more than making up for whatever else was lacking.

The archer let out a soft huff of breath -- barely a sigh -- and placed his empty glass down on the table.

“I believe I spoke of the cherry blossoms in my hometown before. The flowers there were always the first to appear for the season in the area. People would come and view the trees, at the same time every year.”

To McCree’s surprise, the archer’s expression changed to one of distaste. 

“My home is not a large village. Once per year we would get swamped by the large number of people wanting to enjoy flower viewing, so many there was often difficulty accommodating them all. They would drink and eat beneath the trees, make a mess, and then leave.”

McCree chuckled softly and leaned back in his chair, grin growing broader as the archer’s eyes narrowed.

“Does the thought amuse you?”

“Nah, that ain’t it,” McCree said with a shake of his head. “I was just thinking I should’ve known that the crowds would get on your nerves. You strike me as the lone wolf type.”

“Quite ironic for a _ronin_ to consider another to be a lone wolf, gunslinger. But you are not incorrect.”

Something changed in the other man’s face, his expression becoming nostalgic as he stared into his glass.

“My younger brother often said I did not seem hospitable to the village’s guests during the festival. That one day I would begin to scare away the revelers one by one just by looking at them.”

“You have a brother?”

“I had a brother.”

McCree barely had time to curse himself before awkward apologies were falling from his lips, but the archer’s thin-lipped smile managed to reassure him regardless.

“Do not let it trouble you. Tell me about your home instead.”

McCree wasn't sure if the archer was genuinely interested or just trying to change the subject. Either way, he was happy to oblige.

“I grew up in a small town too. Was born in the city, but my Ma moved out to the middle of nowhere in the desert when I was too young to remember how life was before that. Nothing much to do out there, wasn't famous for anything good. We lived so close to the train line the walls of the house would rattle like there was a damn earthquake every time one went past. I packed up and left as soon as my Ma passed away. She was the only thing keeping me there, though sometimes I wonder if it was me who put her in an early grave with how I acted before I wised up.”

“We have both lost people who are dear to us,” the archer murmured, eyes resting on McCree’s face, expression unreadable.

“‘S just life,” sighed McCree. “Happens to us all in the end.”

The archer was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was low, as if he was sharing a secret.

“Perhaps we have more in common than I first thought, gunslinger.”

McCree’s eyes locked with the other man’s again; every time it happened, McCree felt himself fall a little further, felt the heat in his gut burn a little hotter, saw the darkness in the archer’s eyes grow a little deeper, like a dark pool of water that McCree could have fallen into and slowly sunk to the bottom of without fear of drowning.

The archer had moved closer to him over the course of the night; McCree realized it belatedly as he felt the other man’s knee brush against his own. Breath, warm on his cheek, brushed against his skin and made him shiver in barely-contained anticipation.

“Darlin’...”

“What is it, gunslinger?”

“You’re a damn tease.”

The amused huff that escaped the other man’s lips tickled McCree’s cheek.

“Once again, you say ironic things.”

“Are you sure about…”

“You were shamelessly flirting with me even during the earlier firefight, and suddenly you’re hesitating when I reciprocate?” the archer breathed against the shell of McCree's ear, making him shiver again.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he replied, trying to keep his mind focused as he felt the other man’s hand come to rest on his thigh just above his knee, his thumb running along the seam of the fabric. “You’re burnin’ me up something fierce right now, is all. Like you’re a demon and I’m a man possessed.”

“A demon.” The words are parroted back to him, carrying with them a trace of reproach. An apology was on the tip of his tongue before he even opened his mouth, but a moment later the archer surprised him by smirking, showing his teeth as if trying to live up to McCree’s words. “Perhaps.” 

To McCree’s surprise, the archer moved away from him and waved the barkeep over to attend to their table, handing him what they owed for their drinks with a nod of appreciation. He then turned his attention back to McCree, his eyes dark and warm.

“I have been staying in a room upstairs during my time here. Will you accompany me there?”

McCree's first reaction was actually one of embarrassment from the archer being so forward about his desire in polite company, but the nonplussed look on the barman’s face told him you didn't work a job like this without learning a valuable lesson or two about discretion. He was gone as quickly and quietly as he had first arrived, and before he knew it McCree was on his feet and following wordlessly after the archer as if hypnotised.

The stairs to the inn’s upper level creak under their combined weight as the two men climb them two at a time to the short landing above the bar. There was only three doors to choose from and McCree was desperate enough that he silently thanked his lucky stars that the archer was standing in front of the nearest one with key already in hand.

Feeling the skin on the back of his neck prickle as the key turned in the lock, McCree watched the door swing open without pressure upon its surface as if inviting them in. He wouldn’t have called himself a particularly paranoid man, but with nothing between himself and the archer except mercenary camaraderie and lust he figured it was in his best interest to investigate the room before stepping into it.

A window big enough to jump through, letting through moonlight and the shadows of the skeletal trees. No personal items, but that was to be expected. Nothing seemed suspicious.

“You have nothing to worry about,” the archer said, thankfully sounding amused rather than insulted. “If I had wanted to attack you for whatever reason there were other, more suitable opportunities before now.”

McCree knew that was true, and so he let himself be pushed into the room and pinned back against the door as it was closed.

All he could think about was how goddamn beautiful the other man looked standing stern-faced in the dim light of the moon.

“You are in no danger,” the archer reaffirmed, fingers sliding down to hook themselves on McCree’s belt. “You are here for one reason only.”

Nimble fingers slid over the buckle of his belt and unfastened it in an instant; if the archer had looked beautiful before, it was nothing compared to how he looked when he smiled, reacting almost like a predator to McCree’s soft gasp.

“You are here,” the archer whispered, leaning so close that his lips brushed against McCree’s, “because I want you.”

“God, darlin’,” McCree groaned, pulling the archer into a tight embrace and pressing their lips and bodies together. The response was immediate and hungry; McCree’s back once again hit the door with force as the archer matched him blow for blow, tongue sliding wet and messy along the closed seam of McCree’s lips until he opened his mouth. Their tongues slid lazily against one another until McCree realized he felt short of breath and pulled back with a gasp that did nothing to soothe the heat burning through his body and lungs; the archer caught McCree’s bottom lip between his teeth as they parted, as if making sure he wouldn't move too far away.

One of the archer’s legs pressed between McCree's thighs, the clawed guards the other man wore on his lower legs colder than flesh even through the fabric of McCree's pants. He shivered at the sensation, his flesh palm splaying open across the archer’s half-exposed chest and running along the intricate dragon tattoo on his skin, putting pressure into his touch as he wondered what the bright blue scales of the dragon would feel like if he had touched them as they had roared past him earlier.

The archer let a shaky breath escape his throat as McCree leaned down to place a wet kiss on his nipple, suck with pressure enough to bruise, roll his tongue over the sensitive nub, worry it with his teeth. McCree’s prosthetic hand slid into the man’s shirt and spread across the other side of his chest; he tightened his grip almost immediately and could gauge the firmness of the muscle from the resistance his prosthetic met as he squeezed down. Waiting until he’d managed to get the archer to moan, he then let his mouth wander higher to the man’s shoulder and the column of his neck. His tongue slid along fading ink and smooth skin, tasting salt and warmth as heat settled in the archer’s skin.

A low, rumbling laugh tickled McCree’s lips as his teeth grazed over the archer’s throat and he paused to check on the other man.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“I am fine,” the other man replied, both eyes and voice dark in a way that suggested he was much better than fine. “You are more active than I assumed you would be.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said McCree with a snort, pinching down on the archer’s nipple a little more sharply than intended; all he gets in response if a slight flinch of surprise followed by a look of unabashed hunger. “Let me look after you, darlin’.”

“You are also surprisingly unselfish,” the archer murmured, his voice practically a purr as McCree sucked a dark bruise onto the sensitive spot where shoulder met neck and used the distraction to slide the archer’s shirt down to expose his entire chest.

“Nothin’ wrong with spoiling someone as pretty as you are. And I intend to make you feel real special.”

“You wish to spoil me, gunslinger?”

McCree almost whined in protest as the archer slipped out of his grip and took one, two slow steps backward. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he say down slowly, pliant and confident as he reached down to unfasten the metallic guards that protected his lower legs. They fell to the floor with soft thuds against the wood, and the archer immediately started on removing the rest of his clothing with no hesitation. Somewhere in the back of McCree’s mind he wished that he was the one doing it, but his mouth was dry and his mind blanked by the sight of the archer’s clothing sliding off his body and to the floor. Completely bared and visibly aroused with his hardening cock flushed and pretty, resting comfortably along the curve where thigh met hip, the archer seemed to be having trouble resisting the urge to stretch out on the bed to tempt McCree even further into making good on his words.

McCree honestly didn't need to tempted any more than he already was, but the sight of the other man’s muscles shifting in the moonlight, the shadows playing across his bare skin, the open look of desire he had on his face… they made McCree feel all the more desperate, like the desire was an itch he couldn’t scratch beneath his skin. 

“What are you waiting for?” the archer asked, his tattooed arm moving from where it was lazily splayed behind his head to fist his cock, hips slowly rolling into his own grip. “Show me that your words hold meaning.”

“ _Goddamn,_ darlin’,” McCree breathed, shedding his clothing as quickly as he could as he crossed the room to stand at the side of the bed, his erection jumping against the hand struggling with his fly. The combination of physical contact and the heat in the archer's gaze as he watched him undress were almost too much for McCree to handle, and by the time he’d managed to shed his shirt and pants -- almost tripping over the latter in the process -- he felt like an overeager, bumbling fool compared to his companion. The archer quirked a brow at his antics, more impatient than anything if the way he leaned forward and grasped McCree’s cock as soon at the cowboy was close enough was any sort of indication.

“Impatient, huh?” said McCree with a weak laugh; the archer paused with his lips hovering temptingly over the head of McCree’s cock and McCree had to resist thrusting forward into the soft heat of the archer’s mouth. The first wet kisses to the crown of his erection, the slick tongue across the slit so the archer could taste him made McCree moan without shame, but his self-control survived the onslaught hanging by a thread and he gently pushed the archer away. 

“As much as I love having your pretty mouth on me, I think I’d rather use mine on you right now, sweetheart,” McCree hummed, which was quickly choked off by the feeling of the other man pushing his hand away and putting his mouth back on him, taking the entire length of his cock in one slow slide, the heavy breathing from his nose tickling through the coarse hair below McCree’s navel. The archer swallowed around him once, wet and tight and perfect, before pulling back, dragging the flat of his tongue against the sensitive spot beneath the head and licking his lips with a smile that only widened when McCree swore in response.

“You really are gonna be the death of me, archer,” McCree groaned, breaking the string of spit that had been left bridging precariously between his cock and the other man’s lips. “But I still intend on keeping my word.”

“You keep talking about how you’re going to put your mouth to better use, but you are yet to tell me how you intend to do it. Or show me,” the archer said, lying back across the bed with the sort of pliancy that could only signal invitation. 

McCree chuckled and the archer let out a huff that was part amusement and part frustration. “Didn't realize you were that desperate. Alright, darlin’, roll over for me. Gonna take care of you, open you up real nice for me.”

Blood flushed the other man’s cheeks red but he didn't look embarrassed; in fact, it seemed like he didn't even want to break eye contact with McCree as he rolled onto his belly, lifted his hips and slid his legs apart. He was watching him over his shoulder all the while with half-lidded eyes. 

“Gorgeous,” McCree murmured, leaning over the archer’s prone form and pressing a rough kiss to the swell of each of the archer’s ass cheeks, hoping the other man would bruise. The archer barely had time to tell him he was ridiculous before he was moaning as McCree spread him open and licked a long, wet line from the archer’s balls to the sensitive flesh around his hole. McCree laughed softly as he pulled away, licking his lips as he watched the reflexive tension in the archer’s thighs as his breath tickled the other man.

“Didn't quite catch that. You’re gonna have to speak up. In fact, you can be as loud as you want because I love the sound of that pretty voice of yours.”

The archer’s right arm moved back at an angle McCree would have thought was impossible to bend at, but the hand in his hair keeping his face pressed against the archer’s ass proved him happily wrong. 

“You are yet to make good on your word.”

Not bothering to reply, McCree barely managed to make enough space between himself and the archer to suck on his fingertips to wet them and use them to put slow pressure on the sensitive rim of the other man’s hole. There was resistance for a fleeting moment, but a second later it was gone and the archer was pushing back against his fingers and taking them in with ease. McCree leaned forward again, fucking his fingers into the other man’s body with as much force as he dared to use before slicking them back up with his tongue. The added sensation made the archer moan, grip tightening in McCree’s hair as the cowboy’s tongue slid over the stretched-out rim of his hole, poked inside of him alongside his fingers and had him opening up and wanting something more to fill him and soothe the ache inside him. 

McCree made sure not to push it too far even though the enthusiasm from the archer was making it difficult to hold back; spit was only going to get them so far, so he figured the safest option was to let the man rut back on his fingers and tongue at his own pace.

A pace that was damn fast, now that he bothered to notice it. He could feel the friction between their skin but the archer wasn't stopping or slowing at all. His hips were rolling back and his muscles were like a smooth, hot vise around McCree's fingers. His cock was heavy and he was so hard it on the verge of painful, and from the small wet patches he could see the archer leaving on the bed as his hips rolled he could see he was in an equally desperate state.

“Darlin’,” McCree breathed, moaning in the back of his throat at the way the muscles around his fingers rippled and clenched at the feel of his hot breath on the archer’s sensitive skin, “sweetheart, do you have any…”

“Medical supplies,” the other man replied, sounding strained, “top drawer of the table by the bedside.”

The hand in his hair was gone, and with nothing keeping him in place anymore McCree carefully withdrew his fingers and leaned back towards the small dresser. There was a small bag filled with all sorts of basic medical supplies one would expect to find a person carrying for their own safety and convenience, but with a bit of digging around he was able to find a small, half-empty tub of some sort of cream that looked harmless enough to use as lubrication. The archer had adjusted his position on the bed a little since McCree had moved away, but he raised his hips and bowed his back again once he saw he’d managed to find something for them to use.

“Give it to me when you are done with it,” said the archer, voice rough around the edges with lust. “Hurry up.”

McCree would have laughed at the other man’s impatience if the feeling hadn't been mutual. He slicked up three fingers quick and messy and slid the tub along the sheets to rest next to the archer’s white-knuckled hand. 

“Think you can take two fingers right away?” McCree questioned. The archer hummed in affirmation as he slicked his own fingers and, apparently tired of waiting for McCree, reached back and slid two inside of himself with a relieved groan, his cock dripping between his legs.

“Put your fingers inside of me,” the archer hissed, eyes sharp and hungry. “Now. I don't want to have to wait to adjust when you take me.”

McCree had never been so goddamn close to coming untouched in his entire life. He used prosthetic hand to spread the archer open a little better and then pressed two of his slicked fingers in, alongside the other man’s own fingers. He immediately started pushing back on the pressure, stretching slowly around the intrusion and McCree groaned at the flutter of muscles around his fingers. The archer was so tight and hot that the thought of him around his cock had McCree leaking pre all over his own belly.

It only took a few more minutes for the archer to slide his fingers out of his own ass with a satisfied moan. McCree hurried to withdraw his own and he licked lips at the sight of the other man opened up for him, his fingertips gently teasing the flushed pink rim around his stretched, open hole.

“Ain’t that the prettiest thing.”

An amused huff escaped the archer’s throat and McCree locked eyes with him; he didn't know how the other man could radiate such raw strength looking fucked out on his hands and knees with his ass in the air, but the look on his face made McCree want to give him anything he wanted with no questions asked.

“I’m waiting, gunslinger.”

His voice was sultry, mesmerizing and McCree was up on his knees in a second, stroking the remaining lotion down the length of his cock mindlessly as he positioned himself up against the other man, groaning as he felt him push back to grind the cleft of his ass against McCree’s cock.

“Slowly, darlin’,” McCree murmured, holding the archer’s hips still with one hand and guiding the head of his cock to his hole with the other.

One of the archer’s hands shot to his own cock, closed around the base and clenched down hard, as if he was trying to stop himself from coming just from the stretch and burn of McCree bottoming out inside him. Despite that, he continued to push his hips back against McCree’s and taking the entire length of his cock in one slow slide.

“Doin’ okay?” McCree managed to asked, just barely managing to get the words out before the tight squeeze of the other man’s body had him groaning.

“I am fine,” the archer responded with a light-headed chuckle, rolling his hips back in shallow, experimental movements. “Perhaps four fingers wasn't enough preparation for you, gunslinger.”

McCree felt heat prickling at the tips of his ears, but he had to stay focused on the problem at hand. “You alright?”

The archer was already beginning to move faster, licking the sweat from his top lip as he smirked back at McCree. “I am fine. I am better than fine.”

“Goddamn,” McCree laughed weakly, struggling to find the words for just how _good_ the archer was as he began to move. He got a response immediately in the form of a moan that he knew wasn't just for show from the precome leaking from the other man’s cock and staining the sheets. He was fucking into his own fist, his cock flushed dark and hair falling loose over his face as he rocked back into McCree’s thrusts. The rough slap of skin on skin and the ragged breathing of both men were the only sounds in the room aside from the muted sounds of life from the bar below, but for McCree it was easy to ignore the outside world and focus all of his attention on the other man’s reactions; his moans, the desperate, uneven movement of his hands over his own cock, the rhythmic clench and release of his muscles around him.

He was beginning to have trouble keeping his grip on the archer’s thighs, palms slippery with sweat and slick, but the archer was moving back against his thrusts strongly enough that it hardly mattered. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge, already too wound up from how long they’d teased each other before he’d even been inside of the other man. He tried to angle his hips to the spot that had made the archer react strongest, his entire body shuddering at the sight of the other man losing strength and dropping his entire upper body onto the bed, one hand still working feverishly over the length of his cock.

“Let me,” McCree whispered, voice shaking. “Let me, sweetheart.”

“ _Yes_ ,” the archer breathed, shutting his eyes and letting his hand fall away from his cock as McCree took over, palm easily twisting over the wet head. “Harder, please…”

McCree swore loudly, feeling himself barely keep control as he reached the edge. “Close, darlin’. D’you want--”

“Inside me,” the archer said, one eye cracking open to look directly into McCree’s in a hungry way that made him wonder if the begging had just been to wind him up even worse. “Do not pull away..”

McCree couldn't do anything but obey, and he groaned as his hips stilled and he came inside of the other man, fingers digging into his hip and leaving more bruises alongside the one he’d left with his mouth earlier that night. The archer rutted into McCree’s fist, apparently close himself because a second later he felt the wet heat of the other man’s release spill across his fingers with a moan that was weak from pleasure. He tried his best to catch it all but some still made it to the bed sheets, causing the archer to make a displeased face despite his exhaustion.

“Sorry ‘bout that… caught me by surprise,” McCree said in between panting, and the archer simply shook his head and moved forward so McCree’s cock slipped out of his ass, come lazily dripping out of his hole as he adjusted to a more comfortable position. 

McCree fell back onto the bed and looked around the room for something he could use to clean them up; there didn't appear to be any running water in the room, so that was out of the question. The archer must have figured out what he was trying to do because he stretched across the bed to the small table on the other side and brought out a small square of cloth from one of the drawers to wipe themselves down with. Once they were both cleaned up, McCree wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

“Err, do you want me to…”

The archer’s lips quirked into a tired smile. “You can stay the night. It is late and I do not object to your company.”

McCree let out a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s mighty kind of you…”

He trailed off, thinking back over the night to make sure he wasn't making a mistake, and he grinned sheepishly at the archer’s questioning look.

“I… don't recall ever getting your name, sweetheart.”

The flash of uncertainty in the archer’s eyes made McCree feel a little hurt, even if it made sense. Sex didn't magically make them trustworthy to each other. He was just about to give up and settle down to sleep for the night -- heck, the archer was already lying down under the covers by now -- when the other man sat up and leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of McCree’s ear.

“Hanzo.”

“What…”

“That is my name,” the other man said, lying back down against the pillows with a small smile. 

McCree couldn't help the stupid grin that crossed his face in response, and without thinking he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the salt and pepper hair at Hanzo’s temple.

“The name’s Jesse McCree, darlin’.”

Hanzo’s smile widened at his reaction, and McCree tried desperately to remember the last time he’d seen something so damn beautiful.

“Jesse McCree,” Hanzo repeated, and McCree wondered if it was possible to be smitten with the way your name rolled off someone else’s tongue. “I doubt I will forget that name in a hurry.”

* * *

McCree woke up far earlier the next morning than usual, especially for a morning after a night of drinking. He wasn’t wholly unsurprised to find himself alone, the room cleared of Hanzo’s scarce belongings, but it still stung just a little sharper than he thought it would. The room was less foreboding in the light, the dead old tree outside looking somehow cheerier in the sun, but it still felt like his surroundings had lost all of their beauty. Groaning softly and running his flesh hand over his face to rid him of some of the heaviness in his eyes, McCree figured he should probably get up and move on, especially considering the room wasn't even his to be sleeping in. Plus he was dying for a smoke.

Once he was dressed, McCree headed downstairs and found the same man who had manned the bar the night before tending to the needs of the scarce few patrons who had come to the inn for breakfast. He flagged the man over once he wasn't busy with his customers and found himself scratching the back of his neck awkwardly in search of a logical explanation.

“Howdy. Listen, partner, about the room…”

“The room you were staying in was already paid in full, sir,” the innkeeper said with the most perfectly neutral expression McCree had ever seen, “by Mr. Shimada.”

 _Hanzo Shimada_.

Well, that was one mystery solved. McCree was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't see the innkeeper pull a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of his grubby apron until it was thrust so close to his face that he couldn't miss it.

“He wanted me to pass this on to you.”

McCree nodded his thanks wordlessly, the tip of his nose hitting the paper before he had the sense to grab it. A short message was scrawled on the paper in immaculate script.

_You are an interesting man, Jesse McCree. I will be heading east to Mannheim for another job, and will be staying at the town’s only inn. Ask for me by name should you decide to follow me._

McCree’s grin widened as he read, and after he’d looked the note over several times he folded it and tucked it into one of his pockets for safekeeping. Adjusting his hat to block out the bright morning sun as he stepped outside and happily digging in his pockets for a cigarillo, he headed for the main road that led east and away from Adlersbrunn. 

Well, he always liked to say that life was never uneventful, and it promised to be even more eventful from hereon out.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~It's really hard to write fics without mentioning the name of one of the characters, god.~~
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to say hi to me on tumblr and twitter: [hanzo-apologist](http://hanzo-apologist.tumblr.com) and [DeadlockMcCree](http://www.twitter.com/DeadlockMcCree)


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